Chapter 4: 7 keys

The rain had come too late. The forest had already gone up in flames, but at least they had been able to prevent the fire from spreading to the houses. Afterwards at the station, Dean had debated whether to take a shower or not. He was soaked and grimy, but he felt tired. The look would probably infuriate him too much. All of his colleagues knew he was gay and most of them couldn't give a shit. Yet, there were always a couple of jackasses, like how at Sam's parties there were always a few jerks. So, he would get the look if he showered with them. The look that said, 'Don't rape me if I bend over to retrieve the soap.' Yeah, like that was going to happen. Those guys had seen too many prison movies.

When he reached the Impala and reached in his pockets he could just about kick himself. He was supposed to put his keys in his locker before riding out. What had he not done? Put his keys in his locker before they rode out. He had left them in his pocket under the uniform and then invariably they fell out sometime during work. Three more keys that he had lost. That made seven. Fuck. Getting into the car and starting it was no problem; result of a misspent youth. However, Dean did regret that now he had to pay Bobby a visit tomorrow. Or rather, later today, because it was around five in the morning. Bobby would be pissed off; this was the third time that Dean would have to drop by because he had lost his damn keys.

He had been distracted by thoughts of the hot professor. The smouldering hot professor that he was not going to see again, because the guy looked nice and Dean was anything but nice. Starting the car, Dean apologised to his baby and drove off. On the way to his apartment, he caught himself thinking about that tongue and those hands several times. Eventually, he put on some Zepp to fill the car with something else than his dirty thoughts.

It wasn't until he arrived at the apartment building that he realised the chick from upstairs had moved a week ago. This was important because the chick from upstairs, Sarah, had kept a set of his spare keys and he had kept a set of hers. A precaution for exactly these occasions. However, she had returned his keys and they were now safely inside his apartment. And he was outside without keys. Double fuck. This meant he would have to drive over to Sam and Jess' place, because they also had a spare key to his apartment. Except now the party would be over, because Sam had classes in the morning. He would be long asleep by now and Dean hated to wake him, so he resolved to sleep in his car.

It's not like he hadn't done that before, with or without company. The rain was not abating, so he would have to be quick in getting in the backseat, or he would get soaked all over again. As Dean got out he noticed someone sitting under the little canopy in front of the apartment building. You've got to be kidding me, he thought. Instead of getting in the car, he ran to the building.

It was the professor and he was sleeping. A book was balancing precariously on his knee, his head sagged backwards against the wall and his trench coat had fallen open, revealing the suit underneath. Dean guessed that the guy had come here after the party, resolved to wait for Dean while reading and had fallen asleep. Who did stuff like that? Stalkers, that's who.

Gently, Dean touched his shoulder and the man woke up. There was the initial confusion, because he did recognise Dean, but he did not recognise his surroundings. Finally, he seemed to cotton on to where he was and he smiled embarrassed. Smoothing down his suit, he got to his feet.

'How long have you been sitting here?' Dean asked. He wanted to add, 'you idiot,' because the guy could have gotten mugged or killed. There was something seriously wrong with him. No one sane would sit in the middle of the night on the doorstep of someone they've only talked to for a few minutes and whose last name they didn't even know.

'Not long. And I've got my book,' the man said and he patted his book fondly before slipping it into the right pocket of his trench coat.

'I've seen you before at the fires. And then you come here tonight; you're now officially giving off stalker vibes,' Dean told him. The tone he was going for was severe, but it came out more amused. You silly little stalker, you! Dean sighed. The crazy sex appeal of the guy was getting to him.

'I'm aware,' he muttered. His head was bowed and he seemed contrite. As he lifted his blue eyes to gaze at Dean, Dean realised he wasn't remorseful at all, though he did appear a bit ashamed of his behaviour.

'Alright, as long as you know. What are you doing here?' Dean asked.

'Just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'll go now,' the man said. Dean watched his retreating back, the rain colouring his hair a shade darker and discovered he didn't want him to leave. It was a stupid impulse and he was stupid to give in to it, yet he did.

'Wait, what's your name?' he called out and the man came back. The rain was really coming down now, but the man walked leisurely back, until he was under the canopy again. Dean almost groaned out of frustration when he realised the man was on foot. Etiquette demanded that he offer the man a ride home. Luckily, Dean hardly ever listened to etiquette. Politeness was not for him. Just get his name, so you have a name to call out when you masturbate, he told himself. Hot professor was a little impersonal. That was so wrong, but it brought a smirk to Dean's face nonetheless.

'Hi, I'm James Novak,' the man said and they shook hands as if they hadn't been ravishing each other like two sex starved strangers a couple of hours ago.

'James?' Dean tried. He tasted the name on his lips and it didn't feel quite right.

'Well, it's Castiel actually, but my middle name is James and that's a bit more conventional, so I usually go by James,' he explained. It seemed he was not a fan of his own name, which was unnecessary. He was clearly not conventional, so he should not have a conventional name either. A special name for a special guy: Castiel suited him.

'Castiel,' Dean whispered and his husky voice brought a blush to Castiel's cheeks. Yeah, Dean could easily imagine panting that name. A little too easily perhaps.

'It could have been worse; they were thinking about naming me Uriel,' Castiel said and he chuckled. Dean honestly didn't see what was wrong with Castiel. It was a biblical name, but Castiel did look rather angelic. Dean was acquainted with the Bible; after he came out his father had embarked on a, thankfully short lived, mission to straighten Dean out. Awkward dinner chats with priests were had. They were more enjoyable, Dean discovered, when he had some things handy to quote back at them, so he had read the Bible several times. Surprisingly, there was some good stuff in it. A whole lot of nonsense too, though.

'No, I like Castiel.'

'Then you can call me Castiel,' Castiel offered and they smiled at each other. Wistfully, Dean stared at the door. A warm shower and bed were so close by. Three stairs up, two doors away, yet he couldn't get in.

'What's wrong?' Castiel asked and Dean admitted that he had lost his keys. Castiel asked about spare keys and Dean admitted that Sam had those, but that his brother also had classes in the morning. Before Dean could stop him Castiel had pushed one of the buttons next to the door. It was five in the morning and now the one neighbour who was going to answer was going to despise him. Dean had really preferred to remain on nodding in the elevator terms with everyone, but that chance was gone now. He peeked at the name tag. L. Harris was the lucky person who was going to hate his guts for all eternity.

'Hi Laura, it's James. Could I...' Castiel began, but a buzzing sound followed and the door opened before he could finish his sentence.

'Come on up,' an excited female voice chirped. Dean didn't like the excitement. How did Castiel even know her? Castiel took his finger off the button and whispered that Laura and he had talked for a few minutes while he was waiting for Dean. She had told him that she was going to be up all night watching old movies and that he was welcome to join her at any time. His finger pressed the button again.

'I am coming up, but I'm afraid it's not to your door. Dean has arrived,' Castiel explained. The apology was clear in his voice as he took his finger off the button and glanced at Dean.

'Dean Winchester? Oh.'

'So, that's what complete and utter disappointment sounds like,' Dean joked. The exercise was futile anyway, because he could now enter the apartment building, but he could still not get into his apartment. He told Castiel that, but the professor only smiled and held the door open for him. As they walked up the three flights of stairs, Dean was starting to feel slightly ridiculous. Arriving at his door, Castiel reached into his pocket and took out what looked like two hairpins. Dean was shocked into silence when Castiel kneeled down and started to pick the lock.

How could someone who looked like that know how to pick locks? His slender fingers were expertly twisting the pins and there was a look of concentration on his face. Dean swallowed with difficulty when Castiel tilted his head to listen for the click and he returned the pins to his pocket when he heard it. Dusting off his knees, Castiel straightened and opened the door for Dean. A man with the face of an angel and the skills of a criminal; gimme gimme gimme. It was difficult to think under the circumstances, but Dean didn't think he had ever been this turned on.

'There you go,' Castiel said and Dean pulled him into the apartment by his tie. At least now we know each other's names, Dean thought, as he shoved Castiel against the wall. After three tries, he finally got the door closed. Castiel's lips were hot under his and they parted eagerly when Dean's tongue wanted to enter his mouth. They kissed feverishly, while Dean undid the tie and slipped off the trench coat. He was pressed against Castiel and his body felt soft and hard at the same time. When their kisses grew more demanding, Dean began to unbutton Castiel's shirt, but the other man pushed him away.

Dean was unsure of what to do for a moment, because he wanted to flip the light switch so he could see Castiel, but he also wanted to stay by his side. In one smooth motion, Castiel turned the tables and had Dean pinned against the wall. His hands were under Dean's shirt and Dean gasped as his fingers dug into his skin. Castiel's mouth was near his ear and he didn't even lick his earlobe or nibble on it. All he did was breathe and it sent shivers down Dean's spine.

They tore at each other's clothes, Dean sucked hard on Castiel's neck and Castiel's hands felt like a thousand degrees on Dean's hips. Suddenly, Castiel stopped their frantic groping and grabbed Dean's wrists. He placed them against the wall and held them there, while he started to slowly kiss Dean. His lips were supple and he kissed Dean with care. With tenderness. It was torture, delicious torture. If Dean had any willpower, he would have gladly stood there the rest of his life while Castiel explored every corner of his mouth with that fantastic tongue. But Dean was on sensory overload and he couldn't bear it for long.

When Dean felt that he was going to have an orgasm just standing there, kissing, he finally couldn't take it anymore and broke free. In a matter of seconds they were both naked. Castiel took Dean up against the wall and Dean took Castiel hard on the floor. It was unlike anything Dean had ever experienced before. It was rough and raw, the way he liked it, but it was also safe. Not only because the sex was literally safe and protected, but because Dean felt safe and protected. It was a lot of things at once; things that Dean felt couldn't go together. It was violent and dirty, yet there was a kindness behind every touch.

Castiel treated him with a restrained gentleness that was new to Dean. Even in the midst, as they were moving, moving, moving, Castiel was careful not to hurt him. Never to hurt him. It wasn't sex. It was making love. Afterwards, as they lay panting side by side, Castiel leaned over and kissed Dean's fingers one by one. He paused as he came to the finger with the missing fingertip.

'What happened to your fingertip?'

'Lost it in a fire. Steel door slammed shut. It was a clean cut, seared shut immediately,' Dean explained. Through the window a beam of moonlight fell on Castiel's face as he regarded the finger, but Dean didn't need to see it to know. There was no relief or disappointment, only concern when he asked whether it had hurt.

'Nah,' Dean lied. Castiel remained silent, staring at him and after a few seconds Dean grinned.

'Yeah, like hell,' he admitted and Castiel popped the finger into his mouth. The warm, moist feeling and the tip of Castiel's tongue swirling around his finger felt like ecstasy. Dean was instantly ready for another round. Perhaps the really good guys didn't care about the disfigurement at all, but about him.

'You taste like cinders and rain,' Castiel whispered, after he was finished kissing every finger. Dean laughed.

'More like smoke and sweat. And sex,' he growled as he attempted to climb on top of Castiel. To say that he was disappointed when Castiel moved away was an understatement.

'I've got to go. One of the classes your brother has this morning is mine.'

'What do you teach?'

'Magic, Witchcraft and Religion in about two hours, but mostly Metaphysics.'